ection>
THE PROMISE OF A NEW FUTURE AWAITS ONE COUPLE IN MEL STERLING’S STUNNING DEBUT NOVEL
Stealing a pickup truck, newly widowed Abby McMurray hopes to escape her abusive brother-in-law. But the vehicle’s owner and his attack dog halt her plans. She knows she’s made a terrible mistake. Yet there’s something tender about the stranger that makes her feel safe.
K-9 deputy Cade Latimer senses Abby isn’t a criminal. And when he sees her bruises, he knows she’s running from someone. Physically and emotionally scarred from a botched investigation, Cade has his own demons. Yet he can’t resist protecting the gentle woman who’s capturing his heart. But little do they know, Abby’s brother-in-law will go to any lengths to track Abby down….
She was touching Cade because she wanted to.
The simple purity and comfort of a human connection, a touch that didn’t involve menace or pain.
Yes, it had to be that, she told herself.
The hand was warm as it cupped the flare of her hip bone. When the hand slid across her belly and curved to her waist where she lay on her side in the bed of the pickup, she didn’t resist an automatic movement to relax into the heat of his body, curled behind her.
In the humidity, it was only moments before she felt the hollow of her spine grow damp with perspiration, but still the heat was welcome. To be close to another body, without fear, without trembling…it was both all she had wished and more than she had dared to hope for in the past year.
His hand slid, as if in sleep, gently along her rib cage. Abby wondered if he could feel the sudden slamming acceleration of her heartbeat, or the manic trembling that was turning her insides to liquid.
Dear Reader,
The idea for this book seized me one afternoon as I exited a convenience store with my purchases. Outside the store was a car, door standing wide-open, keys in the ignition and the engine running. There wasn’t a person in sight, and as I stood there wondering where the car’s owner was, I realized that just about anyone could walk up, get in that car and drive away, never to be found again.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t know a woman over age twenty-five who hasn’t had at least one moment where she imagines walking away from absolutely everything and starting a brand-new life. Because I’m a storyteller, my brain began chasing that idea. What would drive a woman to steal a car and vanish? Could I justify such a desperate act?
I’m a romantic at heart, so the dark seed of the story—a woman fleeing domestic violence—began to grow into a love story right away. The hero turned up promptly, but it takes more than a good man to save a woman—it takes a strong woman, too, willing to participate in her own salvation.
I hope you’ll join me in a suspenseful ride with Abby and Cade and Mort, the K-9 dog. Let’s tell ourselves stronger stories, as women and as humans, and begin to make a difference.
Mel Sterling
Latimer’s Law
Mel Sterling
MEL STERLING
started writing stories in elementary school and wrote her first full-length novel in a spiral-bound notebook at age twelve. Her favorite Christmas present was a typewriter and a ream of paper. After college, she found herself programming computers and writing technical documentation. A few years ago, she rediscovered romance writing during a prolonged period of insomnia and began to indulge her passion with a vengeance. She lives with her computer geek husband in a quiet happy house full of books, animals and ideas.
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
For my husband, the best and most honorable man I know. Thank you for giving me the freedom to run.
Contents
Chapter 1
The last straw was a single, ridiculous button.
Abby shifted the paper grocery sack in her arms as she stepped out of the convenience store. The hard plastic cap of the orange juice nudged at just the wrong place, the curve under her biceps where the bruises had never quite
